The Island

by Michael Bray

  “I was born in Burma. When I was a child, bandits raided our village. The women were rounded up, raped and murdered. The boys taken prisoner and forced into servitude of the army. I was just seven when I was enlisted, a frightened orphan boy who had lost his entire family in one night. Over the next few years, I was trained to fight, to use weapons. To kill.” He paused as he said it, staring at the white wake of the boat as it rolled away from them. “When I was ten, I killed my first man. Shot him, in the head. I wasn’t proud. I cried myself to sleep. Never in front of my superiors. To show weakness was to die. When I realised no help was coming, I simply went on as normal. I returned to my duties, performing the same raids as those who had taken me. I became as cold and emotionless a killer as those who had taken me from my family. Ironic, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah.”

  Moses sighed, and glanced at Chase. “I took no pleasure in these things. I did them because I knew that if I didn’t, then I would be beaten and perhaps killed. After a time, even the atrocities I committed were distant to me. By the time I was twenty, I had killed more than two hundred innocent people. It was then, when I realised what a monster I had become, that I decided to flee.”

  Despite his decision to keep himself distant from his fellow competitor, Chase was curious. “What happened?” he asked.

  Moses sighed, linking his hands as he continued to stare at the ocean. “I left on foot with nothing but a few loaves of stolen bread. I walked for three weeks, frightened and alone. I contracted malaria and dysentery, but still I went on. Still I did whatever it took to get away. For three months, I scraped and begged, stole and borrowed to flee that life. Eventually, I made it to America.”

  “And you decided to do this? That seems like a strange decision.”

  “I was a young man then. After I spent all that time, scratching and clawing to make a new life in America, after I settled down, worked hard and tried to live quietly, a man came to see me. A man who found out what I used to be and threatened to have me arrested for war crimes if I didn’t pay him.”

  Moses sighed, his eyes glazing over. “I don’t have the money. This man says he will make my life hell. Has done for three years now. When times get desperate, a man will go to any lengths to survive.”

  Chase recalled the day he tried to buy the handgun. He knew all too well how that felt. “Can’t you go to anyone? Ask someone for help?”

  Moses shook his head. “I cannot. My papers are fraudulent. I can’t risk anyone looking into me in too much detail. When I win this show, I will ask that all of my past indiscretions be forgotten, erased, then this man and his blackmail will go away.”

  “And what if you lose?” Chase didn’t know why he even asked the question. The answer was an obvious one. Moses shrugged. “If I lose then it doesn’t matter either way.”

  Cold cut through Chase, and not just because of the blustery conditions. There was certain finality to those words that applied to all of them. He looked again at Moses, perhaps seeing him for the first time. The man he had thought of as a harmless fatherly type was a killer. Maybe not for some time, but a killer nonetheless. Chase already felt woefully inadequate. Combined with the unforgiving cancer which was eating him alive, he was starting to think he had made a very big mistake.

  TWO

  The island first appeared on the south side of the boat. Not The Island, that would come later. This was Lomar’s island. The temperature had climbed to such a level that not even the forward motion of the boat and the sea breeze could deter its baking heat. Chase had stayed on deck long after Moses had retreated back inside to enjoy the free bar. He wasn’t there on some kind of pleasure cruise. He was there to save his daughter. As the boat turned towards its destination, and the island started to grow larger as they neared, the others came out on deck. Awkward, mistrustful glances were thrown. There were no greetings, no handshakes. Just a cold indifference. It seemed the game was already underway. Chase tried to assess each of them, hoping to discover where he sat in the pecking order as a potential winner or loser. The two girls (one was called Perrie, he didn’t know the name of the other one) had already formed a bond, it had seemed. Their name-stencilled shirts had been removed and tied around waists, exposing slim bodies in matching black tank tops. Both looked to be half drunk already. Chase was curious if they were drinking to forget what was about to happen or having one last blow out before the inevitable shit storm to come. Moses he had already met, the older man hiding those yellow eyes behind reflective black sunglasses. The other two men were as far apart as it was possible to imagine. One of them, the one he recalled from the waiting room with the incessant finger to thumb routine, was called Ryder. He too had dispensed with his shirt, showing off a muscular torso which made Chase incredibly aware that he was out of shape. The girls seemed to be enjoying the view, and Ryder didn’t seem to mind them watching. On his right shoulder was a black and grey tattoo, penned with incredible details. It shows a cobra coiled around a cracked human skull. Below it, in a scroll curling around the skull, were the words ‘no fear of death’. Unlike the rest of them (half-cut girls aside) Ryder looked the most relaxed, and if Chase was honest, the most physically impressive. The other contestant, the one who Chase had seen chewing his fingernails and tapping his foot in the waiting room, was called Alex. The heat had brought out his acne in ugly blotches, and his eyes were still filled with fear as he flicked them to his rivals in turn.

  There’s a man who knows he’s made a mistake. Chase found some comfort in that feeling. On the heels of it was another. In Alex, there was at least one person he thought he could definitely take out if he had to. The rest of the group could smell blood too and as such had already started to distance themselves from him. Based on his initial impressions, Chase suspected he could take all of them out if he needed to with the exception of Ryder and Moses, who he considered his most realistic threat.

  The lush greens of The Island greeted them as they pulled up at the dock. They could see the sprawling house halfway up the hillside, a spectacular property with walkways and vast open spaces. They each got their bags and disembarked, waiting on the bright, hot dock and waiting to be told what to do next. As they watched, a figure approached from the house. Clad in brown loafers, crème flannel trousers and loose, white shirt, Damien Lomar jogged down the dock towards them, grin beaming behind tanned skin.

  “You made it I see, welcome to my home.”

  All six of them gawped at the house, unable to believe that anyone could afford to live in such luxury. Lomar let them gawp for a while, and then clapped his hands together. “Well, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you around.”

  Lomar led them back the way he had come. Chase fell in behind Ryder, getting a close up look at the chiselled back and the muscles which continued to make him feel inadequate.

  “For the next three days, you will stay here and go through your final preparations before you ship out to The Island. Think of this as your last taste of civilisation.” Lomar grinned over his shoulder as he said it. Nobody else seemed to find it funny. He led them up the deck steps through a tidy garden filled with palm trees and flowers. “As you all know, the basis of the game is simple. Enter the northern gate as a group. Reach the opposite side of The Island and exit via the south gate. Only one of you can exit, and will only be allowed to do so when all of your rivals have been eliminated.”

  The wording wasn’t lost on Chase. Eliminated sounded much better than killed or murdered. Lomar led them into the house, the cool blast of the air conditioning a welcome relief from the intense heat of the day. Lomar led them through a white marble reception room, past the pool table (the Brazilian model was long absent) and down another hallway. Stuffed animal heads watched over them as they passed, then moved into a large, spacious dining room of sorts. “Fan of hunting, Mr. Lomar?” Moses asked. Lomar nodded. “Occasionally. There is nothing more primal than man hunting beast one on one, don’t you think?”

  “I wouldn’t know
much about hunting,” Moses replied. Chase knew that wasn’t strictly true. The dining room had glass doors down one full length of the room leading out onto a sun drenched patio and swimming pool. A chef in pristine whites stood behind a barbecue, cooking burgers and sausages. Lomar turned to face his audience. Still grinning. “Before I let you enjoy the next few days, there are a few other things I wanted to talk to you about. This will be covered in greater detail tomorrow when you speak to our head of production. What I want you to remember is that this is a television show. Treat it as such.”

  “What does that mean?” Ryder asked.

  “I mean keep in mind the entertainment aspect. You may go into The Island together but you don’t have to remain that way. Go in groups or on your own, it really doesn’t matter. What matters is that people keep watching.”

  “Isn’t that out of our hands?” Perrie asked. Despite looking half cut earlier, she was calm and in control.

  Lomar’s grin widened. “Quite the opposite. It is all in your hands. The best television shows are filled with drama, twists and turns. Granted, there will be plenty of those when you get onto The Island itself, but I want more. A good double cross, a tasty argument. Maybe a bit of sexual tension between contestants.” He looked at the two girls as he said it, raising one eyebrow for a split second. “Whatever you choose to do it up to you. Bonuses will be paid for those who are deemed to be making it more of a show.”

  “Isn’t death enough to keep people watching?” Chase had no idea he was even going to speak until the words had left his mouth. Even so, the question was a valid one.

  Lomar looked at him for a second, his grin faltering ever so slightly, and then he responded in the same conversational, jovial tone. “Of course, a person’s mortality isn’t something to be frowned at, and I mean no disrespect. But there is something to be said for the kind of dramas that only you, the season one contestants, can make. Be memorable, be controversial. Be ruthless. Remember, there can be only one winner. Your faces will be broadcast all over the world on live television. There are over three hundred thousand cameras rigged up through The Island to capture your every move. Each of you will be wearing cameras on your clothing too in order to capture everything that takes place. To capture the first glimpse of what lives behind those two hundred foot walls.”

  “And what does live there?”

  It was Alex who had spoken. His foot was still, but his eyes still darted. His t-shirt was ringed under the arms with sweat and he looked completely uncomfortable. Lomar was still smiling, but now it was the smile of a crocodile rather than a friend telling a humorous story.

  “I’m afraid to tell you that would spoil the very real reactions when you encounter what I have in store for you.” Not so much the words themselves, but the delivery of them had brought everyone’s mood down just a touch. The burgers still sizzled and smelled gorgeous, the pool still looked inviting and cool, but all any of them could think about was death. “Well,” Lomar said, sensing the mood drop. “I have to leave on business later today, however my staff have been instructed to give you anything you require until you leave for The Island. You will also be visited by our survival expert tomorrow who will show you a few basic survival tips. I believe one of you is former Special Forces, am I correct?”

  Ryder raised his hand Lomar nodded. “For you, I’m afraid it might be a boring exercise, but the rest of you ought to pay strict attention. In closing, I will wish you all good luck. Pasquale is preparing food out on the grill, and the pool is gloriously cool. Enjoy these days of freedom. Soon, you will enter The Island. Now go ahead and relax, you’ve earned it. Leave your bags; they will be taken to your rooms which you will be shown to later.”

  The crowd was about to disperse, and Chase was about to head outside when Lomar put a hand on his shoulder. “Would you come with me, Mr. Riley?”

  Chase’s heart vaulted into his throat. He could feel the eyes of the other contestants on him, willing something to be wrong, hoping for their odds to improve at his expense. Chase suspected what it was about. It had to be the cancer. They had made a mistake in clearing him and now were about to kick him off the show. He followed Lomar to a small room off the dining area. It looked like a study or office of sorts. Immense oak bookcases lined the wall, the room itself dominated by the biggest desk he had ever seen. “Please, take a seat,” Lomar said, motioning to the high backed chair. Chase sat, and Lomar walked around to the other side of the table, where he too sat. Folding his hands on the spotless table top, Chase tried his best not to appear nervous, but there was no way to deny that Lomar was an intimidating presence. Chase sat in the silence, listening to the monotonous tick of the clock as the seconds were eaten away.

  “I understand you’re not in the best of health.”

  With those words, Chase knew the game was up. He considered trying to fight it, to try and lie his way out of trouble, but Lomar’s piercing gaze told him that any lie would be seen through, any excuse dismissed. “Yes. That’s right,” Chase said.

  Lomar nodded. “Cancer of the lungs I believe. Terminal according to your medical scan.”

  Chase nodded. “Apparently. But your health scan cleared me to take part, if you intend to throw me off the show I–” A raised palm was enough to stop Chase in his tracks.

  Lomar smiled a thin, toothless gesture. “Don’t try to talk your way out of it. It’s not necessary.”

  “I can still do it. I can still take part.”

  “Mr. Riley, please, let me speak.” The slightest air of authority. Chase imagined Lomar would be terrifying during board meetings when he dialled that aggression all the way up to eleven if his staff wasn’t getting the job done as he wanted it.

  “I’m sorry,” Chase muttered. “It’s just that... This is important to me. You have no idea.”

  “Actually, I do. I selected you, remember? All of you. I know the motivations for you taking part. I know the situation, Mr. Riley. Make no mistake about it.”

  Chase nodded, folding his hands in his lap.

  “Now I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, that we can’t have a contestant on our show that is already facing death regardless of if he wins or loses. The public would feel cheated. You see my dilemma?”

  “If the public feel cheated that I’m already dying, then maybe it’s them that are the problem, not me.”

  Lomar grinned, then stood and walked around the desk to the window, which gave him a spectacular view of the ocean. “I can’t speak for the public, only myself. But you are of course right. That doesn’t change the fact that the public will feel cheated. I can’t have that.”

  “Then why bring me here? Why not just reject me at the application stage? Why give me false hope that I could do this?”

  “Mr. Riley, please!” This time, the snap in his voice was clear. Sharp. This wasn’t a man used to being questioned. “Let me finish.”

  Chase sat in silence, watching as Lomar opened a drawer and took a small silver device. It looked like a cross between a pistol and a tattoo gun. Smooth chrome, handle moulded for comfort. Chase felt fear bristle down his spine, wondering if he was about to be killed for trying to deceive a mega power like Lomar, for wasting his time and resources. He wondered if it would be quick, if they would put him out of his misery then take his body out to sea and dump it overboard. Panic was close to taking over. Lomar was approaching now, chrome device held loose and hanging at his side. Just as Chase had decided to try and make a run for it, Lomar placed the device on the table in front of Chase then returned to his seat. Chase looked at the device, confused and curious in equal measure. On closer inspection, the device was some kind of drug delivery device. The needle protruding out of its end covered in a rubber tip.

  “What is this?” Chase asked. Lomar smiled. Crocodile this time like when he was asked about what was on The Island.

  “Vaccine.”

  “For what?”

  “Your cancer of course.”

  Chase stared at the needle gun
, then at Lomar, looking for the joke, for the first hint that he was being tricked. He saw nothing but curiosity in the billionaire’s face.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Like I said, Mr. Riley. I can’t have the public chastising me because one of our contestants is already dying.”

  “I don’t think you understand. I have cancer.”

  “And there is the vaccine,” Lomar said, slowly and patient as a man trying to explain something simple to a child. Lomar leaned on the desk, crocodile grin spreading. “When you reach The Island, you will learn that science has made many things possible that the public know nothing about. The treatment for cancer has existed for at least twenty five years. Only those rich or powerful enough can afford it. As you know, certain cancers can be treated with drugs. I believe that was your intention in coming here, correct, to get the treatment?”

  Chase nodded.

  “Well, here is something better. How will it feel to know that you can cure your daughter completely and immunise her from the disease if you win. Believe me, Mr. Riley, even I had to jump through a lot of hoops to get this vaccine. You have no idea how difficult it was to obtain.”

  “People are dying, my daughter… I mean… This isn’t something you can hold back.”

  Lomar shrugged. “I’ve held nothing back. The decision not to release the vaccine is one made by people far more powerful than me. I would imagine the near eleven billion dollar turnover in the pharmaceutical trade each year has something to do with it. Frankly, none of that is our concern. What is my concern is making you fit and well for the show. So, if you want to take part in The Island, you will inject yourself with that in the left forearm. Within forty eight hours, your symptoms should have completely receded. By the time you set foot on The Island, you will be as healthy as you were before those deformed cells ever tried to invade your body.”